


Someone to You

by CSHfic, VSfic



Series: No One Knows Us (Pro-Bending AU) [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Bending (Avatar), Alternate Universe - Sports, Ba Sing Se, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Miscommunication, Paparazzi, Pro-Bending, background katara/aang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSHfic/pseuds/CSHfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSfic/pseuds/VSfic
Summary: The Blue Spirit's identity is pro-bending's hottest new mystery. Meanwhile, the alley behind the Bagermoles’ gym isn't quite as private as they'd thought, and Sokka learns a little more about Zuko's past.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: No One Knows Us (Pro-Bending AU) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983337
Comments: 70
Kudos: 679





	Someone to You

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of our pro-bender AU - it'd help to read the first one, but you can probably follow along without.

The lights in the locker room are out when he and Zuko finally finish up in the gym. Sokka lets himself into Suki’s office to put away their training gear, and when he comes back he can already hear the water running. They’d taken it easy, mostly just brushing up on their defense strategy. Sokka is pleasantly tired, but not in a way that’s going to make him sore for their game tomorrow. He tosses his sword and boomerang down on the bench next to his locker and heads for the showers.

Toph and Suki had thrown together a press release officially welcoming the Blue Spirit to the team a few days after Zuko’s contract was signed. It took time to get used to the Blue Spirit’s play style and learn to patch the holes in their strategies left by Aang’s absence. Tomorrow is the Blue Spirit’s first real game, and the official start to Aang’s hiatus. 

They spent the morning watching the recordings of their last match against the Omashu Pentapuses, with Suki narrating the plays out loud for Toph. Keeping Zuko’s identity a secret means no firebending. Sokka is perfectly fine with that, because Zuko kicks ass with his dual dao even without his bending, but it does mean that they needed to rethink their team strategy.

The crowd for their match against the Omashu Pentapuses probably won’t be too crazy. The Flying Boars—Ba Sing Se’s major league team—have a home game scheduled for the same weekend, and the minor league’s stadium crowd always seems a bit thin on those days. Toph grumbles about it, because it irks her when the team that her parents own draws better crowds than her team, even if it’s basically impossible for a small team like theirs to compete with the incredible amount of advertisement selling seats for the major league. 

A small crowd is probably for the best, anyway, because it gives them a chance to get used to each other with a little less pressure. 

They rewatched the tapes with a close eye on how the opposing team handles Sokka. Sometimes teams will try to target him down at the start of the match, hoping for an easy knockout early on. Last time, the Pentapuses’ strategy had been to essentially ignore him for the first half of the game, focusing instead on trying to unring Toph and Aang. 

In the major league, almost every game is decided by knocking the enemy team out of the ring. In the minors, the games are a bit more varied in skill level, and reaching the sixteen points required to win the round becomes much more important. 

It was a _lot_ more important for their team, though, and the enemy team would know it. The teams start on their respective halves of the playing field. Crossing the midline is only allowed roughly half-way through the match, whenever one of the teams manages to reach eight points. It means that Sokka is unlikely to score in the first half, unless he gets a lucky shot in with his boomerang. It usually doesn’t matter, because Toph is an aggressive enough offense that he very rarely has to wait that long for the field to open up. 

With two non-benders, Toph is definitely going to be a target, because unringing her before they reach eight points will be an almost guaranteed win for the other team. 

Anyone with a brain will target her. 

It is entirely unsurprising how absolutely _delighted_ Toph is by the prospect.

It makes Sokka’s and Zuko’s jobs fairly straightforward, at least. All they have to do is play defense for Toph, and let her do her thing.

The shower curtain swishes, letting in a little gust of cold air. Sokka grins and starts to turn, but before he can Zuko’s arms slide around his waist. He presses his lips against the back of Sokka’s neck, warm and light, and then leans in to rest his chin on his shoulder. 

(According to Zuko, the locker rooms in the Komodo Dragons’ home gym had private baths, with lockable cubicles and nice luxurious benches in the showers. Sokka has never regretted being on a minor league team more.)

“Are you coming in here to rush me?” Sokka asks, mock-annoyed. 

He turns in Zuko’s arms, so that the spray is against his back, and leans in to kiss him. Zuko’s already finished his own shower, hair washed and toweled off. He smiles a little against Sokka’s lips.

“You’re so high maintenance,” Zuko says, teasing. “How long does a shower take? Are you planning to be in here all day?”

It’s an _extremely_ appealing idea. Sokka could kiss Zuko until the water runs cold. 

“Tempting,” Sokka says, and then huffs a laugh when Zuko hums in agreement. He tilts his head away, and Zuko just leans in to nose against Sokka’s neck, undeterred. “But… I think Toph might actually kill us if we fuck in the showers.” 

Zuko makes a big show of thinking about it.

“I guess we shouldn’t risk it,” he agrees. “Since we have a game tomorrow. Suki might have trouble replacing two of us on such short notice.”

“For the good of the team,” Sokka says. “I guess… maybe we should take this to my place?”

Suki gave them the rest of the afternoon off. Sokka had planned to just go home, pick through the weird vegetarian leftover samples Katara had shoved into his fridge after she and Aang tested wedding caterers, maybe pick a show to binge watch… 

This new plan sounds _much_ more appealing. 

The back door of the gym leads out into the alley, away from the street. Toph has quite effectively struck fear into the photographers looking to get a photo of the Blue Spirit—they’ve mostly learned to keep their distance. Sokka glances around quickly to make sure the coast is clear anyway, just to be safe. 

Zuko follows him a moment after, the straps from his and Sokka’s gym bags looped in one hand. His hair gets wavy when it dries. Sokka reaches out and brushes a strand over his shoulder. He lets his fingers linger for a moment at Zuko’s neck before sliding down his arm to take his own bag. Zuko smiles at him, private and fond, and for a moment Sokka’s heart feels too big for his chest. He’s sorely tempted to kiss him again, right there in the alley next to the dumpsters. Zuko’s smile takes on a faintly amused tilt, like he’s read Sokka’s mind. He nuges Sokka forward, pausing only briefly to slide on his mask—his cloth one, the one he wears when he’s trying to be sneaky—before following Sokka down the alley. 

They’ve spent plenty of time together, and been on their fair share of dates since that first chance meeting, but Sokka likes this best—quiet, lazy afternoons with just the two of them. The sheets smell like Zuko, spice and plum blossom from his shampoo, faintly minty from the scar treatment gel he uses. 

Sokka isn’t tired, but he is _very_ comfortable, with Zuko dozing half on top of him, his arm draped over Sokka’s middle. Zuko’s hair is an unruly mess, but that’s what he gets for letting Sokka get his hands in it before it has totally dried.

There’s a bruise blooming on Sokka’s hip from yesterday’s practice, a lucky shot from Toph. Zuko had been tracing his fingers lightly around the edges of it earlier, lost in thought, but his arm is a slack weight over Sokka’s stomach now. Sokka hooks his ankle over Zuko’s calf, but he just hums contentedly at the touch and doesn’t wake. 

He has a sneaking suspicion that Zuko didn’t sleep well last night. He doesn’t seem to sleep well in general, actually. Sokka’s sure that sleeping in a cold and empty hotel room doesn’t help. Zuko is still dragging his feet on apartment hunting. He’s either incredibly picky, or incredibly indecisive. It means that they come to Sokka’s place more often than not, though, and he can’t find it in him to complain—he likes having Zuko in his bed. 

Sokka scrolls his Twitter feed on his phone, one handed. His other arm is starting to fall asleep, but he doesn’t want to move with Zuko squashed up against his side. 

Aang’s last game had been a good one, and between the announcement about his temporary leave, the Blue Spirit joining the team as his replacement, and the fact that Sokka had been the one to get the winning knockout in the last round, Twitter is an absolute mess. 

Sokka scrolls through his mentions, picking through the low-effort anon hate for the good stuff.

He can’t show Zuko. Zuko gets _upset_ when Sokka shows him mean-spirited posts about himself, instead of laughing like he’s supposed to. Zuko doesn’t even have social media, except for the extremely stiff profile the Komodo Rhinos had him keep, which hasn’t been updated since he quit the team. He’s sort of grateful that Zuko doesn’t bother with Twitter, because Sokka can just imagine him trying to defend him in his replies.

Sokka screenshots a _‘Friendship ended with Sokka, now the Blue Spirit is my gimmick’_ meme and sends it off to Suki with a crying face. Then he sends a few of the really good posts to Toph, including a very unflattering GIF of Aang getting slapped in the face with a water whip, along with an equally unflattering image ID.

He scrolls some more. A solid half of these posts are criticisms of the team, for taking on another non-bender, or of Sokka for… winning the game? They really hate when he does that. At least the gifs of him unringing the other team’s earthbender are cool. He saves one and sends it off to Katara. 

Sokka scrolls down. Screenshot of Toph making a weird face while she blocks a fireball. Post written like Aang is dying, instead of just taking a leave for the season. Photo of Zuko—

“Oh, shit,” Sokka says. He doesn’t mean to sit up, but he does, so quickly that it gives him a little head rush. The motion jostles Zuko enough that he slides down into Sokka’s lap with a grumble. 

“Mm—what?” Zuko asks. He stiffens slightly as he wakes up a bit more and spots the look on Sokka’s face. Zuko leans up onto his elbow. “Is everything okay?” 

Sokka turns his phone around so Zuko can see. It’s a photo of himself and Zuko, _undeniably_ them, standing in the alley outside the gym. Sokka’s hand is on Zuko’s elbow, part way through reaching down to take his gym bag.

(He supposes he should be grateful they didn’t catch the bit before that, where Sokka had been caressing Zuko’s neck like an infatuated idiot.)

Zuko stares at the photo. It’s… not necessarily incriminating, but it’s definitely leaning a bit too far to look strictly friendly. The angle is bad, which is lucky, because Zuko just looks privately fond, but Sokka’s expression is dangerously close to _mooning_.

It’s… actually a nice picture, except for the part where it was taken by some creep in an alley. Sokka _knows_ he checked to make sure the coast was clear. Where the fuck was the photographer even hiding? _The dumpster?_

For a moment Zuko looks like he’s forgotten to breathe. Sokka nudges him. The touch startles him into a deep, shuddering breath, and the air is startlingly hot when he exhales.

Zuko doesn’t want anyone to know he’s playing for the Badgermoles. He’s a private person, but Sokka suspects there’s some deeper reason there. Zuko is one of the best firebenders the league has ever seen, but as the Blue Spirit he’s let everyone assume he’s another nonbender. 

Between that, and the mask… it’s hard to imagine he’s doing anything other than hiding from something. It’s not a league thing—Suki made absolutely certain that he was clear to play, and that “retirement” hadn’t been a polite euphemism for “banned for misconduct”—and if it’s not a league thing, then that means it’s a personal thing.

Sokka isn’t going to pry. He’d decided that on the very first day, even before they’d slept together. But he doesn’t need to know the details to know that he hates seeing that look on Zuko’s face. He tries to reach for Zuko’s arm, tries harder to squash the little flicker of hurt when Zuko pulls roughly away and stands. Zuko doesn’t notice. He paces the length of the bed with his hands wrapped around his elbows.

“At least you don’t have the mask on you,” Sokka says. “This doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll know you’re the Blue Spirit. So maybe… maybe this could be good? As a cover story for you to hang around the gym...”

Sokka bites his lip, and resists the urge to smack himself, when Zuko glares at him. 

“It’s not _good_ ,” Zuko says.

“We can still salvage this,” Sokka insists. It really isn’t that bad. The photo is… kind of cute, actually. “I mean—if we tell them we’ve been going on dates, no one will get suspicious if they see you hanging around...”

“What would that solve?” Zuko asks. 

“It would…” Sokka starts to say, before his brain catches up with his stupid mouth. His heart does an embarrassing little free fall. He clears his throat quickly, hoping it doesn’t show on his face. 

“Oh,” Sokka says. “No, right. Um. Nothing, I guess. Sorry. I didn’t even ask if you...”

Sokka doesn’t know how to end that sentence without embarrassing himself, so he just doesn’t. They’d only been dating for a couple weeks. It’s been a good couple weeks, Sokka had thought, but he’s—a bit of a romantic, Suki always teases him about that, so maybe… maybe it’s stupid, that he’d thought Zuko was only worried about being found out as the Blue Spirit…

“Didn’t ask me?” Zuko asks.

…but this is fine, because Sokka is absolutely great at casual. The _best_. He clears his throat again and shifts up the mattress so he can pull his feet under him. 

“We can make up a better excuse,” Sokka says quickly. “Something else. For why you were at the gym.”

“Didn’t ask me what?” Zuko repeats, because apparently he can’t just let Sokka backpedal in _peace_. 

“I mean,” Sokka says. He makes a face, which is supposed to be a reassuring smile, and absolutely is not one. Zuko just looks more confused. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to be a thing. If you don’t want… a thing.”

Zuko squints at him. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks. 

On his pillow, Sokka’s phone lights up with a text alert, followed by five more rapid fire, which probably means Toph is spamming him with messages. He flips it over, sighs. 

“Nothing, forget it,” Sokka says. “You’re friends with Aang, right? So maybe you were just coming by the gym to say hello—”

Sokka’s phone starts to ring. He shoves it under the pillow to muffle the vibrations.

“Sokka,” Zuko says. He’s looking at him very carefully, and Sokka would like to die. “What do you think we’re talking about?”

“What do _you_ think we’re talking about?” Sokka asks suspiciously. Zuko’s eyes narrow, unhappy with the deflection. Ugh, spirits, he’s going to make Sokka say it. He crosses his arms. “I’m talking about—us.”

Zuko’s face does a funny little wobble. It’s an expression Sokka has come to know very well, flickering across his face during practice, when he’s seen an opening and is calculating the risk of taking it.

“Are you…” Zuko asks quietly, “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“No,” Sokka says immediately, and then cringes. “Maybe. Not very successfully.”

Zuko takes a deep breath. Very deep. Like, almost painfully—

And then when he tries to run a hand through his hair, his fingers catch in the tangles. He makes a frustrated sound. 

Sokka opens his mouth again, to—what? Dig himself deeper, probably, or maybe do something truly embarrassing like word-vomit out another apology, like the first one wasn’t bad enough. 

Zuko saves him from himself. He drops down into Sokka’s lap and kisses him breathless. Sokka makes a startled noise and pulls back, only slightly, still close enough that Zuko’s breath feathers hot against his cheek. 

“Of course I want—” Zuko stumbles on the words, breath catching. He frames Sokka’s face in his hands, meets his gaze, and starts over more forcefully, “ _Of course_ I want to be your boyfriend. This—this has nothing to do with that.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, and that tight feeling is back in his chest, full-force and overwhelmingly warm. “ _Oh_. Well. Good.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, smiling in a way that is distinctly teasing. “I think it’s good.”

Sokka wants to chase that teasing smile off his lips. He starts to, but then the rest of what Zuko said catches up with him.

“Wait,” Sokka says. “If it’s not us… then what are you so worried about?”

Zuko’s skin is warm everywhere he’s touching him, trapped between the cage of his thighs. 

He’d admitted to Sokka that he gets— _heated_ , literally heated, when his emotions are running high. Sokka knows that Zuko probably just overwarm because he is freaking out, but he’s got a bit of a Pavlovian response to Zuko getting hot and bothered at this point—who can blame him? He squirms a bit with Zuko in his lap. Zuko huffs a laugh quietly under his breath, but it sounds a little strained.

“I just—didn’t expect people to know about me, you know, moving here,” Zuko says. “Most of my stuff is still in Caldera City, and… I guess I’ve been putting this off.”

He takes another deep breath. This time when he exhales, it isn’t quite as hot.

“I thought I’d have… at least until I’d found a place of my own, and…” Zuko trails off. 

Sokka rubs a few soothing circles on his back with his thumb. Having Zuko in his lap is very distracting, but having him move away would be much worse. For a moment it seems like Zuko’s going to leave it there. Sokka knows that Zuko is a private person, but his general distaste for social media and the press doesn’t really explain a reaction like that. 

“Okay,” Sokka says encouragingly. “So, say it gets around that you’re moving here. What happens then?”

“My uncle lives in the Lower Ring,” Zuko says.

 _Oh_. 

That is not at all what he’d been expecting, but… it makes sense. 

Zuko always gets so weird, whenever the topic strays too close to his family, so maybe it isn’t that Zuko is upset about being seen _with Sokka_ outside the gym, so much as he’s upset about being seen in Ba Sing Se at all. 

He’d be a lot more relieved by that, if it didn’t immediately set off alarm bells. Sokka tried to bring up Zuko’s family exactly once. Zuko had clammed up immediately, and Sokka had quickly learned to avoid the subject. There was obviously _something_ weird, there, and the fact that Zuko didn’t want his uncle to know where he lived...

“I haven’t talked to him since—well, it’s been years. And he didn’t know that I was in Ba Sing Se.” Zuko frowns, looking truly miserable. “But he probably knows now, so.” 

It isn’t like Sokka has been living under a rock or anything. Sokka knows that Zuko’s father owns the Komodo Rhinos. He knows that Zuko’s sister is on the team, too. And yeah, it’s probably not a coincidence, with his sudden retirement from the major league, even if he doesn’t know the full story. It’s none of Sokka’s business though, and Zuko clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. 

It doesn’t mean Sokka isn’t curious, though. He’s certainly wondered. 

But looking at Zuko now, Sokka has that same sinking feeling he’d gotten before, when Zuko had nervously steered the topic away from his family, that whatever happened is a lot worse than just a simple falling out.

“Is it—” Sokka hesitates, but there really isn’t a delicate way to ask, so, “Is it _bad_ that your uncle knows where to find you?”

Maybe he’d be less worried, if Zuko would stop dragging his feet on apartment hunting and get a real apartment with an actual doorman, instead of a hotel where anyone could follow him inside—

“No,” Zuko says, with so much certainty that Sokka finds himself relaxing immediately. “He’s not like my—ah, it’s nothing like that. I just meant… I don’t know if he’d want to see me again, after… how we left things.” 

Some of the tension goes out of Sokka’s shoulders. It’s definitely a relief, knowing that Zuko’s not in danger, or at least that the guy probably isn’t going to come hunt him down at his hotel. He still doesn’t really understand, but Zuko already looks anxious enough without Sokka pressing for more than he’s comfortable sharing. Sokka traces a soothing circle on Zuko’s back and waits patiently for him to continue.

“I used to live with my uncle when I was a teenager,” Zuko says. “I was… not the easiest person to deal with, back then. He was so patient with me, when I gave him every reason not to be. And… I just…”

Zuko clears his throat. 

“You know that my father owns the Komodo Rhinos,” he says. Sokka nods. “When I was about… half way through my first year of university, my father offered me a place on his team.” 

Wow. That was—almost unheard of, getting recruited before finishing university. It’s maybe a little less strange, when the team is family-owned, and Zuko is a _good_ bender, good enough for a fair spot. 

“My uncle didn’t want me to go,” Zuko says. “We argued, and I said… some things I’m not proud of. To him. And then I left, and…” Zuko scrubs his hand over his face. “Anyway. He was right, and I just...”

Zuko doesn’t seem to know how to finish that thought. Sokka hums. 

“Do you want to see him again?” he asks.

The question clearly catches him off guard, like it’s never even occurred to him that his opinion on the situation matters. Zuko thinks about it for a long time before he answers.

“I don’t know,” Zuko admits.

“Okay,” Sokka says. “Just, you know. Think about it.”

Zuko does seem to think about it, rubbing his thumb absently against Sokka’s shoulder. 

“I… still don’t want people knowing I’m the Blue Spirit,” Zuko adds after a long moment. “So. You and I, at the gym…”

“I think we can come up with a good explanation for that one,” Sokka says lightly. “If we put our heads together.”

Zuko hums. He still looks nervous, but considerably less so now. Sokka slides his arms down to Zuko’s waist and squeezes, and Zuko makes a soft sound that stabs him right in the heart. 

“Big game tomorrow,” Zuko says at length. “Maybe—I don’t know. I guess a good… boyfriend,” Zuko almost looks hesitant when he says it, _boyfriend_. Sokka grins, encouraging, and Zuko leans in to press a light kiss to his lips, “a good boyfriend would come to tell you to break a leg.”

He runs his fingers over Sokka’s shoulders, down his back, slow, but—Sokka can’t help the little laugh that bubbles up at Zuko’s words. 

“You’re such a theater nerd,” Sokka says. “Who tells an athlete to break their leg?”

“Shh, you’re ruining—I’m trying to be suave,” Zuko says seriously.

“It’s working,” Sokka says, equally seriously. The atmosphere is much lighter, now. He digs his phone out from under the pillow, takes one look at the number of unopened notifications, and quickly shoves it away again. He’ll deal with those later. For now, he has much more important things to do. 

Zuko might be onto something, with his aloof and unapproachable persona. Not one, single reporter has even tried to reach out to pry him for details, even though they’re desperate to know—although that could partly be owed to the fact that, by design, none of them know how to contact him.

For Sokka, that means he arrives at the Badgermoles’ post-game presser to an entire row of reporters shouting over each other, trying to catch his attention. Sokka shoots Zuko a wry look, but it’s impossible to tell if it lands behind the Blue Spirit’s impassive mask. Toph snorts and drops into the seat on the end, kicking a foot up into the chair beside her. That leaves Sokka front-and-center which… feels about right.

Sokka ends up fielding about a _million_ questions. It’s a little insulting, actually, how few of their post-game interview questions are actually about the _game_. Nevermind that it was the Blue Spirit’s first match, never mind that they’d won by a mile—mostly thanks to Toph, Sokka thinks, and maybe a bit from the other team underestimating just how effective two nonbenders could be. 

They only get one question about the Blue Spirit’s identity. It’s directed at Zuko, who’s still seated behind the table with them even though he’d pointedly shoved the mics they’d set up for him in Sokka’s and Toph’s direction the moment he’d sat down. There’s going to be a great video clip of the awkward silence that follows, as the Blue Spirit pointedly looks between the reporter and the discarded mics, still hilariously condescending for a guy whose face is hidden behind a mask. Toph lets them stew in it for a moment, before she deflects the question. 

Zuko is _extremely_ tense next to him, though it’s nearly impossible to tell beneath the Blue Spirit mask. Sokka very much wants to reach out and squeeze his hand. He settles for bumping his foot against Zuko’s ankle under the table, but it has the desired effect—he relaxes by degrees as Sokka smiles and charms his way through another invasive question. Toph, bless her, interrupts rudely every time someone tries to stray too far off topic, loudly redirecting their attention back to the game. 

Nearly the next hour is spent with several reporters very creatively attempting to rephrase the same questions about Sokka and Zuko’s relationship. He deflects every one of them with put-upon charm. Sokka has never minded interviews, but even _he_ is a little annoyed by the end of it, and he can tell that the few dedicated sports reporters trying to get a word in edgewise are, too. 

“That went better than I expected,” Sokka says lightly, once they’ve all retreated back to the locker room to gather their gear. 

“That was excruciating,” Zuko says. 

Sokka hums, claps him on the shoulder. 

“Better than expected,” he repeats. 

“You did great, Sparky,” Toph says. “Seriously. Keep giving them nothing.”

Zuko laughs, despite himself. Sokka waits until he’s buried the Blue Spirit mask in the bottom of his bag before he takes his hand to lead him out the back. 

Sokka gives Zuko a few days to sort himself out. The press conference really did go fine, even if it had put Zuko in an off mood for the rest of the evening. They have a full week until their next game though, so there’s plenty of time for the internet to get used to them, and to the Blue Spirit.

Sokka gives Zuko a quick peck on the way out of practice. He’s in a bit of a rush, because he’s only got about a half an hour to catch the monorail down to the Lower Ring. Zuko claims to have a full day of apartment hunting ahead of him, which from Sokka’s experience means sitting in his hotel room swiping through rental listings with extreme prejudice, all while texting mean things about them to his friends in Caldera City.

Sokka heads to the Lower Ring. Cabbage Corp. has rented a studio for their commercial shoot, which is fine by Sokka, because it means air conditioning for the unseasonably warm weather they’ve been having. It’s also much more private than the open-air shoots his agent used to book. Cabbage Corp. hasn’t been too keen on those, ever since the Great Cabbage Debacle, which Sokka maintains was _hilarious_ , even if Aang hadn’t found it quite so funny when he’d received his cease-and-desist letter requesting he stop wearing their merchandise. 

It’s nearly dinner time by the time the film crew is finally done with him. Sokka had been in a hurry, so he’d left his bag back at the gym so he wouldn’t have to lug it around. It works out nicely, because the lady in props had been delighted to push a new, Cabbage Corp. branded one on him on his way out, along with a handful of swag that Sokka probably won’t use. 

He’s halfway down the steps before he really notices him, leaning against the building’s stone facade. Sokka almost walks right past him, except that his body always seems to gravitate toward Zuko whether he wants it to or not. He looks, as always, very awkward, and very suspicious with his mask and his stupid hat, rescued from the back of Sokka’s closet where he’d tried to and failed to hide it from him. 

Sokka jogs down the last couple steps before Zuko looks up from his phone. Zuko is so focused on the screen that he doesn’t notice Sokka until he leans in and unhooks one ear of his mask. It startles him a little, and Sokka grins impishly when Zuko fixes him with a long-suffering look, but he does lean forward obediently for a kiss, anyway. 

One bonus, Sokka thinks, to creeps being way too invested in his personal life, is that he doesn’t have to worry about keeping this a secret anymore, which… Yeah, Sokka is very much not complaining about that.

“How was apartment hunting?” Sokka asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer. 

“It was… I’m working on it,” Zuko says. Sokka laughs. “How was the shoot?”

Sokka steps back and gestures broadly at himself, with his new outfit and gym bag. Zuko eyes the studio like it’s radioactive, and that makes Sokka laugh again. 

“I don’t know how you can stand this,” Zuko says. 

“What? Fashion, free stuff, what’s not to love?” Sokka asks. He does a little spin to show off his new outfit. It’s nothing particularly _fancy_ , necessarily, just the Cabbage Corp. gear they’d let him walk away with after the shoot, but it’s tight fitting and very flattering. He strikes a cheeky pose, partly for laughs, but also because if Zuko keeps raking his eyes over him like that, Sokka can’t be held responsible for teasing him.

It has the desired effect. Zuko scoffs, feigning disinterest, and blushes, because he’s _clearly_ interested. Sokka had picked this outfit with the very specific purpose of getting Zuko flustered, and it’s always nice to see he’s hit his mark.

“So what brings you all the way down here?” Sokka asks. 

“My—um,” Zuko starts, and then quickly loses his nerve. Sokka glances at his phone, no pressure, and waits patiently for Zuko to get his thoughts in order. “My uncle owns a tea shop.”

Sokka side-eyes him. Zuko is very clearly trying to be casual about it, like it’s just an innocent observation, instead of the reason Zuko’s come all the way to meet Sokka here, when he hates this sort of thing. He’s being _casual_ about it, and Sokka is great at casual. 

“I’m thirsty,” he says, and sounds much too eager and not actually that casual at all. Zuko laughs, and Sokka tries again. “Did you want to… scope it out?”

“Yeah,” he says. “If you don’t mind.”

Zuko looks like he knows where he’s going. He’d hinted before that he was familiar with the city, though Sokka hadn’t realized just how familiar until Zuko admitted to living in the Lower Ring with his uncle as a teenager. Sokka doesn’t actually come down here that often, or at least, not to this neighborhood. The clinic Katara volunteers at is on the west side of the ring, and that’s really the furthest Sokka has gone that wasn’t for a job. Zuko leads the way—not particularly confidently, though Sokka suspects that’s for other reasons.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Zuko says for the third time in their very brief walk. If Sokka didn’t know any better, he’d think Zuko was trying to get rid of him. 

(The desperate grip he’d had on Sokka’s hand, before he’d remembered the paparazzi and gotten self-conscious, was enough to make Sokka follow him anywhere.)

The Jasmine Dragon is nestled on a quiet cross-street a few blocks from the monorail stop Sokka used to get here. It’s an old building, but the front is freshly painted, marked with a light green sign with a white lotus logo beneath the name.

There’s only a single employee standing at the register, but there are a handful of customers spread throughout the shop that glance over when the bell over the door rings. It’s a small shop, draped in warm Earth Kingdom green.

Zuko makes his way straight to the back with enough confidence that even the puzzled woman at the register doesn’t stop them—which is good, because Sokka would rather they do this in private, just in case. Zuko is nervous enough as it is, and the last thing he needs is for people to start taking pictures, especially if this doesn’t go well. There are already a few people gawking at them, although Sokka can’t tell if anyone’s recognized them or not. It’s a little awkward, cutting behind the counter without permission—Sokka suddenly understands why Zuko was so uncomfortable in Inoka’s kitchen—so when Zuko pulls open the door to the back room, Sokka quickly ducks after him. 

Zuko makes it about three steps before he loses steam. Sokka peeks at the door, to make sure it’s shut completely behind them. It’s not going to block the noise, if there’s shouting, but Sokka will figure it out if it comes to that. Zuko doesn’t seem to think his uncle is the type, but it doesn’t hurt to plan ahead.

There’s a man at the stove with his back to them. 

“Uncle,” Zuko says, and the man’s hand stills on the lid of the teapot.

Zuko is quite a bit taller than his uncle, but for a moment he just looks _small_ in his arms, curling forward to bury his face against his shoulder. Zuko murmurs something that sounds like an apology, but Iroh only shushes him, hands steady on Zuko’s back. 

“I was worried about you,” Iroh said. “I haven’t heard anything since you retired from pro-bending. I read that you were in Ba Sing Se, but… I didn’t want to push you.” 

“Uncle you were right,” Zuko said. “I never should have agreed to play for the Komodo Rhinos—”

“Zuko,” Iroh says. “Enough of that. I’m just happy you’re here now. I think this calls for some tea.” 

That makes Zuko laugh, just a quiet huff of air. Iroh leads him toward a low table that’s littered with belongings—a bag, a jacket, a cold cup of tea—that must be used for breaks. 

Zuko settles kneeling at his seat, and Sokka takes the cushion beside him, one leg bent, the other stuck out beneath the table, and slides over until his bent knee is just brushing Zuko’s thigh. Zuko sends him an exasperated look, to which Sokka responds by nudging him a little harder. He huffs and rolls his eyes, but he stops fiddling nervously with the edge of his place setting, so Sokka doubts he really minds.

“You could sit normally,” Zuko says. 

“I need my knees intact, thank you very much,” Sokka says. “Team asset.” 

Besides, Sokka thinks privately, if he’s going to ruin his knees, it’s going to be doing something a lot more fun than drinking tea. Zuko’s lips quirk, maybe sharing the same thought. Sokka grins at him, and—yep, Zuko goes bright red, so they’re _definitely_ sharing the same thought. 

Sokka picks up a menu. He doesn’t know anything about tea, so he just picks one with a cool name. Zuko glances at his choice and frowns.

“You won’t like that. We’ll just share a pot of jasmine,” Zuko says, even though Iroh has already started on Sokka’s random pick. 

“You don’t know what I like,” Sokka laughs.

“It tastes like dirt,” Zuko says. 

“All tea tastes like...” Sokka says. He hesitates, as Zuko’s expression flickers from amused to distinctly vindicated, “Uh.”

“You will like this one,” Iroh promises, rather graciously. He sets a pot at the center of the table, but neither of them reach for it, so Sokka doesn’t either. “Forgive me, Nephew, I’ve been rude. Who is your friend?”

“Right,” Zuko says, looking nervous again. “This is Sokka. After I retired from the Komodo Rhinos I… joined a different team.” 

Iroh looks momentarily surprised, though not necessarily like he disapproves, which Sokka hopes is a good sign.

“I hadn’t heard,” he says. “Was this recent?”

“Kind of. It’s… a minor league team. The Badgermoles,” he says. 

Sokka can’t tell if Zuko is worried his uncle will disapprove of joining a minor league team, or disapprove of joining another pro-bending team, period. He clearly hadn’t approved of Zuko playing professionally in the first place. Sokka presses his knee into Zuko’s thigh a little more firmly, just to be safe. 

“You’re the Blue Spirit,” Iroh says easily, almost immediately, and sips his tea like he hasn’t just uncovered the sport’s hottest mystery in an eyeblink. Sokka nearly laughs at his reaction, and the almost sheepish way Zuko nods. 

“I didn’t know you followed pro-bending,” Zuko says.

“How could I not, when my niece and nephew are such talented players?” Iroh asks. No mention of his brother owning a team. There’s _definitely_ some history there, but Sokka knows better than to prod at it now, not when this is going so well. “I thought I’d recognized you from somewhere,” he adds, to Sokka this time. 

“Sokka is my teammate,” Zuko says. “And... my boyfriend.” Sokka resists the urge to grin stupidly at the word. In that, at least, Zuko sounds confident. 

Iroh smiles. Finally, he reaches for the teapot, and Zuko relaxes. Iroh pours for Sokka first, eyes warm. 

“I’m so glad to meet you,” Iroh says. “Please, tell me about yourself.”

Sokka sips his tea. It _does_ taste like dirt. It’s also… surprisingly good. He traces a finger around the rim of his cup and glances over at Zuko. 

Yeah, it’s pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the comments/kudos!


End file.
